


O

by Too_many_fandoms007



Series: C.l.o.c.k.s. Universe [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Art, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Cameras, Codes & Ciphers, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, F/M, Flirting, Guards, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Kidnapping, Lies, Manipulation, Pain, Sign Language, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:00:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_many_fandoms007/pseuds/Too_many_fandoms007
Summary: TW: -toxic/abusive relationships-blood, bruises, odd/in-depth descriptions of blood/injury-manipulation-mention/threat of knives-lying-homophobic language/behaviors-threats of violence-implied sexual content-dubious consent??-sexualization of female character-swearing/vulgar language-anxiety-non-con? touching and kissingWow, this one's a doozy. ;)





	O

**Author's Note:**

> TW: -toxic/abusive relationships  
> -blood, bruises, odd/in-depth descriptions of blood/injury  
> -manipulation  
> -mention/threat of knives  
> -lying  
> -homophobic language/behaviors  
> -threats of violence  
> -implied sexual content  
> -dubious consent??  
> -sexualization of female character  
> -swearing/vulgar language  
> -anxiety  
> -non-con? touching and kissing
> 
> Wow, this one's a doozy. ;)

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_ Three punches delivered in short succession left both C and O gasping. One from pain and one from pleasure. Both for terrible reasons. O loved this feeling. More than anything else. He wouldn't trade this job for any other, no matter the abysmal pay and lack of benefits. But he got to beat the absolute shit out of people without consequence, so who was he to complain?

 _Slap! Crack!_ Fists and blood flying, O almost forgot to avoid C's face, the criminal glaring and hissing out a warning when a fist came a little too close. “That-t-that's enough..” C said, trying to look composed despite just nearly having the shit beat out of them.

Unfortunately, they were right. Sighing at the loss of his favorite toy, O handed them back their shirt and went to go clean off his now bloody fists. ‘I wonder if that detective's as fun to play with as C is’ he thought, excited at the prospect of a new toy to play with. ‘Too bad he'll be unconscious. It's no fun when they're unconscious.’ Letting himself get lost in the remnants of images of C all bruised and bloody, a true piece of art really, from just a few minutes ago, O started to lost track of time.

It wasn't until S started yelling at him through his walkie-talkie that he realized that he was late. ‘Shit’, he thought, ‘L was gonna kill him!’ Quickly getting up and running down to the room C had left minutes ago, O ignored the leftover splotches of blood drying on his fists, after all, what's a little more?

\----------------

Satisfied with his work O took a step back. _Beautiful_. The way that the red and purple and blue shades mixed across the detective's pale skin was like paint on a white canvas; breathtaking. Drops and lines of blood formed little lakes and streams, the lines merging to form rivers and channels up, down, left and right. Staining the pale skin and drying. Shades of red, ranging from a bright crimson to a dark maroon spread like the plague across the detective's face. So pretty. He liked the pretty ones. Gave him some raw material to work with. They always looked like they were just begging for a fist. And O was more than happy to give it to them.

Taking a long moment to admire his art, O then turned and left that part of the building, making his way over to the control room where S was waiting.

S, as always, looked flawless. Her blood-red, shoulder-length hair framed her tanned face and sparkling blue eyes. She wore a hoodie that matched her hair and some black sweatpants. Damn, even in sweats she looked hot. Not that he cared. It was just a general observation. He only had eyes for one female, but unfortunately, she was a little preoccupied at the moment, so he'd have to wait. Speaking of which, his little spiderling was about to make her entrance.

L emerged from the shadows, and even in her cute little getup O got shivers. He knew exactly how dangerous she could be, even unarmed and playing the helpless victim.

_“Thalia? What are you doing here?! You shouldn't be here! It's not safe!”_

‘Things just got interesting. C was breaking character. What game was he playing?’ O hoped that whatever game C was playing it wouldn't end in L getting hurt. He would kill them if it did. He has and would do worse for her.

_“I was worried about you Cece. You said you'd be careful.”_

‘Cece. A term of endearment? No. Siblings. Hm. Interesting.’ As long as that stupid detective didn't get any funny little ideas than O had to admit that this actually was a good idea.

“Damn I'd forgotten how well L could act,” S commented as the screen showed the detective practically falling on his ass to look at L. O nodded in agreement. He and S didn't agree on much, but when it came to L they did. Fortunately for him, L didn't seem to be into girls, she'd made that pretty clear. He chuckled as he remembered his precious little spiderling shove the bitch back in disgust, the look of hurt on S's face being almost as good as seeing the bright red handprint where L slapped her resting on her face.

‘Stupid bitch, ’ he thought. ‘Honestly, did she expect _his_ spiderling to like a fag like her?’ Speaking of his spiderling, he'd better go check on her now that she was finished with her little performance. Such a performance deserved a reward after all.

Walking down to L's private room, O couldn't help but find his thoughts drifting back to when they'd first met. Flashes of thoughts and images flew through his mind. L's smile, how it seemed as bright as the sun. Her hands, small and cold, but leaving fire where they touched his bare skin. Moans. Soft, quiet ones. Strangled, barely suppressed ones. Loud, near whines of pain and pleasure. How her breath was hot and her lips like electricity, leaving marks and bites all along his skin. Each time was better than the last. It wasn't the before, or the during that was awkward, it was the after.

How she'd look at him in a mixture of shock and disgust like she couldn't believe that she'd fucked something as ugly as him. How she’d refuse to talk to him for days on end, only engaging in stiff, way-too-formal conversation when absolutely necessary. But she'd always come back. She always did. It was a sick and twisted dance that left neither of them but yet both of them satisfied at the same time. The simple fact of the matter was that no one else had their dynamic. No one else could leave her so wrecked that the only thing she could remember was his name. No one else could fuck her like he did.

Finally reaching her room, he didn't bother to knock, just opened the door and waltzed right in. She was half-dressed, her pants hugging her ass and curves just right, and her bra was bright pink. Her hair was hanging down over her shoulders and face in a way that made O think dangerous thoughts, and her back was turned away from him towards her bed, where a bunch of different kinds of shirts were laid out.

Hearing the door squeak upon his entry, she whipped towards him, her hand already at her thigh ready to grab the knife he was sure she had stowed there. Her facial expressions shifted upon realizing that it was him, but her hand did not. “O.” She said stiffly, her voice forcefully even toned.

“ _My_ little spiderling.” He began, ignoring the scowl she sent his way at the nickname. “I saw your performance with my favorite toy and that pesky little detective. It was good. I rather think that a performance like that deserves a reward, don't you? I have a few ideas in mind.”

“Fuck off.” She spat at him, her voice venom. However, conflict made its appearance on her face. O smirked. They both knew from the second he entered that she was fighting a losing battle. She always came back. _Always_. And they both knew it.

“ _Fuck off_? Fuck sure but baby you know that by the end of this one of us will be begging for more and you know I don't beg.” O watched in delight as a shiver passed through L at his words.

“Shirt. Off. Now.” O quickly obeyed, his shirt tossed carelessly off to the floor in mere seconds. L nearly purred in delight as her bra joined his shirt and she sauntered towards him, her lips on his neck, her hands starting their slow dance down his bare skin. Hands hovering dangerously near his thigh she stood on her tiptoes and said, her voice making O shudder from head to toe, “Now, _let's have some fun.”_

\--------------

S checked the security footage one last time, making sure that her coverup held. Forcing her hands to stop shaking and her mind to stop racing she put up a facade of calm and slipped the slip of paper into her mouth and under her tongue, taking one last deep breath before calmly walking out of the control room.

Making her way down to the underground of the building, S held up her facade through the many security cameras and guards, silently thanking her acting skills. L wasn't the only one that was a natural. Finally making it past the final guard and into the area that she was looking for, S dismissed the guard and requested a few minutes of privacy with the prisoner. Not sparing the request a second glance, the guard left, shutting the heavy door behind them with a _click_.

Opening the cell door using the key along with a series of passcodes, S watched as the prisoner backed into the corner of their cell as she entered, clutching a makeshift weapon with fear in their eyes. **“Hey. It's me.”** She signed, watching as their face immediately relaxed and they dropped their weapon. Shutting the door to give them some privacy, S sighed in pity. They looked worse than last time. Unfortunately, there was nothing that S could do. Trying to help would only make things worse, they both knew that.

“Come ‘ere baby.” She purred, reciting the same routine that they’d followed for months now. After all, the cameras were always watching. Just as rehearsed, the prisoner flinched in apparent disgust, whimpering a bit before complying. Once they were within reaching distance, S pulled them close, grabbing their ass and putting up the impression of whispering naughty things in their ear. Really, she was whispering instructions. In code, of course. After all, one could never be too careful.

After a few moments, S shoved them against the wall, trapping them in between their arms. Giving them a look and looking to the left, S kissed them. Long and deep. Opening their mouth and slipping her tongue inside, S slipped the paper from underneath her tongue into the prisoner's mouth. After a few moments, they broke apart, both panting and gasping for breath. Tapping on their side three times, S coded a silent apology. They tapped twice to say that it was fine. S knew it wasn't. But for the time being, this was the best they could do.

Pulling back and smirking, S winked and said, “Until next time baby.” Giving a wink to the cameras, S sauntered out of the cell.

\---------

Giving a side glance to the cameras to make sure that they couldn't see, the prisoner spit out the paper and opened it up, reading the small inscription inside.

 _Midnight_.

**Author's Note:**

> What could S and that prisoner be up to? What does midnight mean? Who's playing who? Who's telling the truth? Who can we trust? Hehehe. All will be revealed soon. 
> 
> Comment theories/whatever. 
> 
> :)


End file.
